Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

This past week my skin has been as thin as see through sheer tissue paper.  I feel porous.  I feel fragile. My gossamer shell offers little in the way of protection at a time when I need added armor.  I'm used to these periods of heightened sensitivity and struggle.  I like to think that I'm quite adept at carrying on with life as usual even if it is a little more arduous than agreeable.  I like to think that I am hiding my vulnerability and wearing my game face like I own it even if it is just a mask.

There is one person I fail to fool every time.  Miss Bit is our little empath.  She sees straight through my sunny smiles and happy exclamations.  Are you OK? she asked me countless times this week.  The past few days, she has given me unsolicited full body hugs.  The kind where she wraps her little arms right around me and holds on tight for long minutes.  She's telling me she loves me all the time and that I'm the best mother ever.  She's having trouble again at bedtime.  She fears the separation of sleep.  She lays awake worrying about what happens to us when we die.  She cannot quiet her mind.  She cannot get to that place of peace.

Last night she confessed that she couldn't sleep because she was worrying about what would happen to us if Heaven isn't real.  She said through tears I could hear but not see, "What if when we die we are gone forever?  I don't want to disappear."

I told her that I believe in Heaven because I feel God's presence in my life.  I have felt the company of angels too, I told her, and sometimes when I ask or I especially need them they leave me signs.

I know!  I know!  she said.  I prayed for nights for a sign from Uncle Vic and then I got one.

Really? I wondered all ears.

When we were having lunch at Gloriosos, I saw his Pabst Blue Ribbon and I just knew it was from him.

I was grateful it was too dark in her room for her to make out my smirk.  I was smiling because she's even asking for signs.  And because for as long as my girl knew my Uncle he was drinking 32 ounce sport bottles of Ice Mountain not hops and barley, but he worked for Pabst and threw back his share in the day.  And because she reminds me so much of myself...of the best parts of myself.  She is the best part of me.

Thank you Mom.  I feel so much better.  I'm so glad I talked to you.  I tucked her in and went downstairs to decompress.

That lasted for about 5 minutes.  Then she was back beside me in despair.  Her Dad gave up his place in bed for her and then she slept like a log...the long and deep sleep of the emotionally exhausted.

I woke up many times and was reassured that she was at rest.  Then I prayed myself back to sleep.

After a toast or two to Uncle Vic after his funeral.